Gratitude, Grief, and Moving On

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summer breeze

i had a passing idea to lay in the grass during my lunch break. i’m really good at having fantastic ideas and not following through. somehow i wised up last summer and decided to keep a blanket in my trunk for little moments like these. so i drove to the tiny park nearby, snapped my blanket into the air, and let it fall quietly to the ground. i followed.

i love the wind. it makes me feel alive, like a kid who still feels like they might someday be carried away by the power of it. i like the the interplay in the trees – the way it moves the heavy branches in a gentle rock, and the way it shimmers the delicate leaves. i revel in the sensation of wind pushing soft curls around my face. i like the feeling of clothes pushed recklessly around, the momentary terror of my shirt coming just above my navel, then realizing who cares right now if my tummy isn’t flat; the juxtaposition of sun pressing down on my skin and warm wind sweeping over me.

i lay there for 20 minutes, alternately looking into the trees, catching the sun peeking through at me… then closing my eyes to hear the birds chirping in a call and response with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and the vague industrial sounds from a few blocks away. i am relaxed. content.